


The Yearbook

by Idisch_von_Swedish



Category: Gilmore Girls
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Chilton to Yale, F/F, Hopefully a little funny too, POV Alternating, a little angsty, kinda sweet
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 12:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19463584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Idisch_von_Swedish/pseuds/Idisch_von_Swedish
Summary: Someone leaves an intriguing entry in Rory's yearbook without revealing their true identity and Rory doesn't realize who they are until graduation is well over and she's in the middle of her Europe trip.Paris takes the silence as a no and tries to move on, but then Rory is apparently also going to Yale and a confrontation is inevitable.Spoilers through s04e02.





	The Yearbook

**Author's Note:**

> Back from a two-year draught! Whaat... xD Currently bingeing Gilmore Girls and had just started season four when I got this idea that I really wanted to write. So here it is, the finished fic, much longer than predicted (as per usual xD). 
> 
> Great thanks to my two betas for this, Greyet and anxiouspunk, and everyone else I asked for opinions. Couldn't have done it without you!
> 
> *I obviously don't own the show or the music, the only thing I claim is Yihua.*

"You have been my inspiration, my rock, my light. I loved you in South Pacific," Lorelai reads from Rory's yearbook. She's standing in the living room. "When did you do South Pacific?"

"What?" Rory calls from the kitchen.

"Some dipstick named Shauna thinks you were in South Pacific."

"Oh, Shauna tends to get people mixed up," Rory explains.

"Oh, okay." There's a pause before Lorelai continues. "Huh. That's odd."

"What is?"

"Apparently one Tenth Muse thinks that you're really hot."

Rory frowns and leaves the kitchen to join her mother. Lorelai holds the yearbook out for Rory to read. In neat handwriting are three words: _you_ _burn_ _me_. It's signed by Tenth Muse, just as Lorelai said. Rory doesn't know what to think, she'll have to look this up. It's clearly some kind of quote, although how much it has to do with her supposed _hotness_ remains to be seen.

"I don't know who wrote this. I'll have to get back to you when I do."

"Ooh," Lorelai purrs, a delighted gleam in her eyes. "A secret admirer?" She looks at the quote again and frowns. "Or possibly a secret enemy. I thought you and Paris were friends again, so whoever could it be?"

Rory shrugs.

"We are, so your guess is as good as mine."

It's true, there's only one person Rory knows who would be wicked enough to pull something like this and she's currently on her best behavior. There's no conflict or drama between them. Paris's entry in her yearbook is, in fact, really nice, and one of the few Rory made a point to read. The mystery person could be anyone, really.

"Hey, you know what's weird?" Lorelai says with sudden faux innocence. "A lot of the kids in here are calling you a valedictorian."

* * *

She's not nervous, Paris tells herself. She's only a bit stressed that she won't find Rory before they leave to never be in each other's lives again. A bit stressed that she might not get to say goodbye. That she might not get to give Rory the CD she just fetched from Nanny, now in a firm grip in her own slightly clammy hands. What if Rory doesn't get her clues, or, what if she does and then reacts badly to it?

Okay. So Paris might be a little nervous. Perhaps more than a little. But she can do nervous, she's had a lot of practise lately. Relieved, she locates Rory across the courtyard. She hasn't left yet. Paris wills herself to calm down, despite her still racing heartbeat, and resolutely walks up to her now former classmate. She touches her back gently to get her attention and as Rory turns around to face her, Paris puts on a smile that she hopes doesn't look forced or awkward. Because she feels a bit awkward. It's now or never.

"Hey," she starts tentatively. "I guess we should say our goodbyes. Nanny made me a special dinner. She makes a mean _farturas_."

Because food totally is what she intended to talk about. _Idiot_ , Paris berates herself. But Rory smiles back.

"Well, good, I'm glad you found me. I wanted to say goodbye, too."

"Good," Paris comments, too fast. "Well, good luck."

It's terrible. She's terrible at this.

"You know, i–it's weird," Rory says and looks down on her feet.

For a moment Paris thinks that this might be it. She hasn't even given all her clues yet but bright, smart Rory has already figured it out. Her heart almost leaps out of her chest but then Rory scrunches up her nose a little and...

"Most of the time I really hated you."

Despite the odd fondness in Rory's voice, Paris's heart plummets to her stomach.

"Yeah," she soldiers on, fruitlessly searching Rory's eyes for a hint that there's something more to it, some hidden meaning. "I really hated you, too."

She knows she's been horrible to Rory over the past three years and that it's a miracle they are friends. Well, not a miracle. It's all thanks to Rory's patient and forgiving nature, Paris shouldn't try to tell herself anything else. But it's not been easy for Paris either. It took a long time for her to figure out what it was with Rory that triggered such erratic behavior in herself.

It's not a lie that she hated Rory, not completely anyway. She did. But it wasn't because she didn't like Rory. It was because she liked her too much and didn't know what to do with all those feelings. It was because she was supposed to be the 'nice Jewish girl' her parents expected and then Rory had to come and ruin that with her rosy cheeks and sky-blue eyes and long, slender, deer-in-headlights look. Not to mention her quick wit and academic smarts, which challenged Paris in the most amazing and infuriating ways. But most of all, she hated Rory because with her, Paris's walls were down. It left her so utterly vulnerable that when Rory hurt her, no matter the intent, she just broke apart, like a house of cards in a breeze.

Feeling a little misty-eyed she surges forward and wraps her arms around Rory. She doesn't want to cry, but even more she doesn't want Rory to see her do it. Rory hugs her back and for just a second Paris lets herself pretend that this isn't the end of their time together. She breathes in Rory's scent, feels her hair against her cheek, her body flush against her own, and then Rory starts to slip out of their embrace already. It's too soon, Paris thinks, but she lets go anyway and takes a step back. She will not cry.

"I guess this is it then," Rory says solemnly.

Paris doesn't trust her voice so she just nods and tries to swallow down the lump in her throat. She only has mild success in the matter. Rory looks at her curiously, as if sensing that Paris isn't finished. She opens her mouth to say something but Paris beats her to it, whipping up the CD between them and pushing it toward Rory.

"It's for you," she blurts out, and Rory freezes with her mouth half open, eyebrows raised in surprise. "I mean, this is for you. From me. Um."

She swallows awkwardly. It's awkward. She made it awkward. Oh man.

Rory closes her mouth but still looks rather surprised as she takes the CD and looks it over. The corners of her mouth slowly creep upwards as she realizes what it is. _Eternal_ _Flame_ , _The Best Of The Bangles_.

"You didn't have to give me anything," she says and looks up from the CD, right into Paris's eyes.

Paris blushes. She hopes it's not too evident.

"I wanted to. Do you have it already? I wasn't sure if you did but–"

"I don't, I love it," Rory interrupts. "Thank you so much!"

She envelopes Paris in a quick second hug that sends a little jolt of excitement through Paris stomach. She _loves_ it. Paris is flying.

"But I didn't get you anything," she says as she leans back, brows knitted together in a frown.

"Don't worry about it," Paris shrugs it off. They weren't planning to exchange gifts. It's no big deal. "I just wanted to give you something to remember me by."

"Aww, that's so sweet!" Lorelai butts in, coming into view from behind Paris.

From the other direction, behind Rory, Rory's grandparents have also apparently joined them. Both are sporting candid smiles, no doubt very proud of their granddaughter, and Paris's cheeks burn distinctly. She's not sentimental. She's not sweet. Well, maybe just this once, but she had hoped to keep it private. Now Rory's whole family knows that she's actually super mushy inside. It's embarrassing.

It also hurts quite a bit to see Rory with all her support, since it reminds Paris that her own parents didn't even make time to attend the ceremony. Paris only has her nanny. She only ever had Nanny, the one single, stable point in her life.

Paris may not be a people person but even she can feel that the Gilmores want their family time now. They cluster together and Paris is the odd one out. She has her own thing to go to, of course, so it's fine. Nanny's special dinner won't stay good forever. But this is goodbye and Paris hates it. She won't say it. Maybe then, they will simply have to meet again, or Rory will have to call, or...or something! Before anyone gets a chance to say anything, Paris speaks up.

"Have fun in Europe!" she all but shouts and bolts from the scene without looking back.

* * *

_Close your eyes, give me your hand._  
_Do you feel my heart beating?_  
_Do you understand?_  
_Do you feel the same?_ _  
_ _Am I only dream–_

"Are you seriously going to listen to music this whole train ride?" Lorelai whines dramatically in the seat next to Rory's. "I'm bored. Please talk to me. I don't understand these people and their French."

Rory rolls her eyes but takes off her headphones. The current CD has replayed at least twice since they hopped on this train so it's only fair. Lorelai quickly snatches the headphones and sneaks a listen.

"Hey! What happened to talking?" Rory complains, mock offended.

"Eternal Flame, am I right?" Lorelai winks knowingly. "How many times have you listened to it since we left the States, fifty-two?"

"Ha–ha, very funny," Rory says and turns off her Walkman before taking her headphones back.

"Maybe we should go to Greece," Lorelai ponders. "We could visit that island, Lesbos, and learn all about the Tenth Muse."

She wiggles her eyebrows and Rory just stares at her, at a loss for words. Why is her mother talking about Lesbos? That's where Sappho lived. Sappho, the Greek lesbian poetess Paris talked about after school one day, several months ago, while complaining how Chilton's education system was failing to cover certain areas. Rory's eyes widen as she realizes. Sappho must be the Tenth Muse. The quote was–

"Too much?" Lorelai asks, scrunching up her nose. "I just want to be supportive. You know you can talk to me about anything, right?"

Rory is still staring, trying to wrap her head around what's going on. Paris. It was Paris after all, just not the way she expected. Paris wrote the quote, obscure so it wouldn't be obvious for anyone else who looked in the yearbook, and Rory was supposed to look it up. She should have. But everything was so hectic those last few days, she didn't have time, and then she went to Europe. With the Bangles CD.

"Honey?" Lorelai brings her attention back to the present. "You do know that, right?"

"Yeah, of course," Rory assures her, forcing a smile.

"Good," Lorelai smiles back.

A comfortable silence settles between them and Rory's racing mind picks up where it left off. The CD, oh my, Eternal _Flame_. Paris put some serious planning into this. As one would expect from her, granted, but she has a boyfriend, hasn't she? And Rory had Dean and then Jess. Not anymore, but maybe that's why Paris never said anything. On top of that, Paris does have a rather complicated relationship with dating, always asking for advice and seeking approval from Rory for every little detail. Which now makes sense in a whole other way than before.

Rory isn't sure how she feels about this. Part of her wishes that Paris would've said something earlier but on the other hand, she's quite relieved she gets to work through it alone and without a ton of schoolwork hanging over her. Either way, she and Paris will probably go to different schools, which makes it feel like Paris is part of her past rather than her future. It's pretty sad. Not that things weren't tough with Paris a lot of the time, because they really were, but they were also, occasionally, really great.

With Paris, it tended to be all or nothing. One day she'd be trusting and needy, sharing intimate details, and the next she'd declare warfare, cold and distant in between explosions. The thing that never changed was her passion. She was always very passionate in everything she did. Rory admires that, even though tact and compassion are important, too. She supposes that she and Paris complement each other pretty well, and their rivalry pushed them to achieve higher goals.

The more Rory thinks about her, the more she misses her. They used to see each other every day at school and sometimes on weekends too, the thought of never doing that again is strange. Were they really going to cease all contact, just like that? Rory entertains the idea of keeping Paris in her life, the quote from Sappho at the forefront of her mind.

What would it feel like to kiss her? How different from her former boyfriends would it be? Probably a lot. Paris is quite a bit shorter than her, and a girl. With long and – Rory remembers from brushing it – very soft hair. Despite her small frame, however, Paris is not delicate. She enjoys being in charge, at least in other situations, and while she might need a little push when it comes to romance, due to her low self-esteem in that department, Rory imagines that Paris would be rather assertive in their supposed kissing scenario. Maybe Rory just hopes she would be. It's an oddly exciting thought. Rory hasn't really considered it before. Taking their height difference into account, it would be easy for Paris to transition from her lips to kiss down her neck–

"Paris, huh?" Lorelai says suddenly and bumps Rory's shoulder, shaking her from her daydream. "Are you excited?"

"There's nothing going on between me and Paris!" Rory exclaims, her cheeks instantly ablaze.

"The _city_ of Paris, Rory," Lorelai clarifies, not quite succeeding to keep a straight face. "We'll arrive in less than forty minutes. Keep up."

If the ground were ever to open up and swallow Rory whole, now would be a good time.

* * *

Paris arrives at Yale University with her mind set on getting a fresh start and being a new and improved version of herself. She's aided by her new life coach, Terrance, who guides her through the introductions with two of her new suitemates and helps to set up a crafts corner. It all goes rather smoothly until she decides to take a tour of the building on her own. She just wants to get a feeling of her neighbours and see if the other dormitories differ from hers but as she's about to exit one of the entryways, a woman carrying way too many items all but barrels into her.

"Oof! I'm sorry," the woman apologizes, struggling to keep hold of her things, and Paris is about to snap old-Paris-style when they both realize who the other person is. "Paris! Wow. You're at Yale!"

It's Lorelai. Which means that Rory is there somewhere. Which means that Paris needs to go, because she isn't ready for this. Rory was supposed to go to Harvard, she was supposed to be out of Paris's life because she never called and of course she didn't because she doesn't like Paris that way and probably freaked out and now she's here and Paris is here and...and...Paris really needs to go.

"I–I hope you had fun in Europe," she sputters and darts out the open doors.

She hurries back to her own dormitory, not stopping until she's in her bedroom and has locked the door. Still facing the door she lets her arms fall to her sides with a heavy sigh.

"Hi."

Paris startles at the sound and whirls around to locate the source, finding an Asian girl with her head propped up on her elbow lying on the top bunk bed. A black fringe and two short pigtails frame her face, a pair of big, round glasses sits on her small button nose, and there's an open book in her free hand. The image is so much Rory and at the same time so different. Paris isn't sure how she feels about it, or about anything right now actually. At any rate, this must be her third and final suitemate, as well as her roommate.

"Hi," she says back, crossing her arms to feel less vulnerable. "Yihua Wu?"

"Yes," the girl replies. "Paris Geller?"

Paris nods and Yihua looks down at her book, presumably to continue reading. Paris frowns and keeps looking at her, trying to figure out if this is all, if the conversion is over, if she'll have to live the rest of the year in silence. Terrance, she thinks, she needs Terrance!

* * *

"Did you know that Paris is here?"

Rory stops unpacking to look up at her mother with wide eyes. Did she hear that right?

"Paris? Is here?" she asks incredulously, glancing out the bedroom door.

"Yeah, I just ran into her in the hallway," Lorelai says and puts down the many items she managed to bring this last round. "Quite literally, actually," she adds with a small chuckle. She frowns when Rory doesn't find it funny. "Don't look so shocked, it was Yale or Princeton. Didn't you talk about it?"

Lorelai places a desk lamp on the desk while Rory shakes her head.

"No, we...we didn't. At first it was because I didn't want to rub in her face that I got into Harvard when she didn't. You know she took that very hard."

"Oh, I do know. I will probably never forget."

"Well, and then...it just never came up again."

"Never? Not once?"

"No. I guess it didn't occur to us that we might pick the same school."

If Rory had anticipated this, she would have a plan ready. Now she hasn't. She's excited that Paris is there, of course, because at this point she's sure of her attraction to the feisty blonde. But there's no workaround the fact that she's overwhelmingly underprepared for a confrontation with her.

Lorelai tilts her head, a sympathetic look on her face.

"You know, she still seems _very_ intrigued by Europe," she says pointedly. "Did you guys talk at all over the summer?"

Rory thought about calling, of course she did. She wanted to, and given enough time, she would have. But there were way too many 'what ifs.' It could've been a prank. Or Rory read too much into Paris's actions. Or Paris liked her at the beginning of the summer but not anymore. Or long-distance wouldn't work for them. Rory is aware that her excuses were weak, but to be honest, not knowing meant she could dream. As soon as she knows how Paris really feels, that may be the end of her happy fantasies.

"We didn't," Rory replies, gaze dropping to her feet.

"Well, maybe you should pay her a visit?" Lorelai suggests.

That would be the sensible thing to do. Rory considers it.

"You could tell her all about the trip and she could tell you about, hmm..." Lorelai pretends to think. "Oh, the yearbook! And the CD. Did you bring back a gift for her, by the way? I thought I saw–"

" _Mom_ ," Rory whines and quickly finds an object to move, her cheeks flushing.

"I just put that there," Lorelai points out.

"Fine," Rory caves and puts the desk lamp back. "I'll go talk to her."

She did buy something for Paris. She's afraid it might come across as silly or corny, though, and she'd rather not have her mother laugh at her right now.

"Great!" Lorelai says and looks at her expectantly.

"You mean right now?" Rory catches on, and Lorelai nods.

"Why not? We're almost done unpacking, I'll finish up here."

Like, a million reasons? Rory struggles, however, to find a single valid one.

"How do you suddenly know so much about Greek poetry and stuff, anyway?" she questions instead, buying herself some more time.

"Oh please, I went on the internet. It's not that difficult."

Rory quizzically raises her eyebrows and Lorelai rolls her eyes.

"Fine, I might've had a little help," she admits. "And I'll be honest, it took me some time to figure out it was Paris."

"How can you be sure?" Rory wonders, needing to hear from someone else that she didn't just imagine it.

"Why, are there other girls I don't know about? They better get in line."

"No, I didn't mean it like that. I just... You really think she likes me?"

Rory tries to phrase the question as neutrally as she can but judging by the look on her mother's face, she can see right through it.

"Well, she certainly did at graduation," Lorelai says softly. "Her gift seemed conspicuously thoughtful, coming from someone who supposedly hated you most of the time. And the way she looked at you... I know that look. I couldn't understand how I hadn't noticed it before."

Rory knows the look. This gives her hope. But it doesn't settle her nerves, which are getting unrulier by the minute.

"How are you so cool with all of this?" she wonders in a small voice.

"Would you rather I freak out?" Lorelai asks with mock helpfulness.

"No!" Rory asserts, despite knowing that Lorelai is only joking. Better to be safe than sorry.

"Okay, well, I guess it all boils down to the fact that I love you," Lorelai says truthfully, meeting Rory's gaze. "More than anything. How you decide to live your life, or with whom, won't ever change that. I just want you to be happy."

Tears well up in Rory's eyes and she surges forward and throws her arms around her mother.

"Thanks, mom," she mumbles onto her shoulder. "I'm so glad that I don't have to worry about what you might think, on top of everything else. I love you."

"I love you too," Lorelai says and hugs her tighter. "You've got this, kiddo."

After a while they let go and Lorelai quickly bounces back into her usual spirited mood.

"Now, go tell her. Or ask her. Or just, you know, make sure your time here won't be as dramatic as the Chilton years."

They share a knowing look and Rory swallows down, hard, her nerves kicking back in with doubled force.

"Wish me luck."

"Crossing my fingers and toes," Lorelai says, holding up her crossed fingers while she does a weird little shuffle with her feet.

Rory chuckles and rolls her eyes at Lorelai's antics before she leaves the room, only to run back a second later to rummage through her backpack. She feels her mother's eyes on her so when she finds what she's looking for she simply grabs the whole bag and takes off again.

No time for gift-wrapping. Time to find Paris.

* * *

Terrance has failed to coach Paris through a conversation with Yihua, mostly because Yihua simply doesn't talk. Paris feels like an idiot for even trying. It's a relief when her phone rings, so she's a little too quick to pick up.

She freezes with the phone halfway to her ear and brings it down again to stare at the name on the screen. She almost missed it, but there it is. _Her_ name. Oh man, it hasn't even been twenty minutes since she saw Lorelai! She's not ready for this.

" _Paris? Are you there?_ " she hears faintly from the device.

"Answer the phone," Terrance encourages.

As so many times before, Paris feels compelled to oblige. Her heart picks up speed as she brings the phone to her ear.

"Hi," she says, and hates the way her voice wavers and betrays just how uncertain she is.

"Hi!" Rory greets her back, and then struggles to get her message across. "So, uh, I thought maybe, uh, we could talk?"

Paris's instinctive reaction is anger and she fights the urge to snap at Rory. _Now_ she wants to talk! But during the summer, while Paris more or less lived by her phone, then she couldn't be bothered. There _are_ ways to call the States from Europe, Paris checked. At the very least, Rory could've called when she got home. Unless she, of course, never wanted to talk and this attempt only is a product of Rory's bad conscience.

"I expected as much, seeing as you called me on my cell phone," Paris settles on pointing out dryly.

"Right, yes," Rory concedes. "Well, I tried to find your room but turns out everyone else is just as clueless as I am."

Paris hears the feeble attempt at a joke but she won't fall for it, can't get weak and give in so easily. Who's to say Rory will make amends? It's entirely possible things will get worse. By living in ignorance, there's still a tiny piece of Paris's heart that can keep on hoping.

"So, can we meet?" Rory wonders when Paris doesn't say anything.

Paris curses fate. Out of all the residential colleges, she and Rory had to get into the same one. Realistically, she knows she can't escape her under these circumstances. They're going to bump into each other one way or another. It would obviously be best to clear the air as soon as possible. And yet...

"I know you're still there, I can hear you breathing," Rory says, sudden affection in her voice.

It's just enough to melt Paris's resistance.

"I'm in C42," she declares. "Your building. Got that?"

"Yeah–"

"You better get here before I change my mind."

With that she hangs up the phone, noticing that her hands are already clammy. She whirls around, looking for her purse and the compact it contains, and when she doesn't find it she growls loudly in frustration.

"Breathe," Terrance begins and puts a hand on her shoulder, but Paris swats his hand away.

"Get out!" she yells, pointing at the door. "I need to do this alone. I'll see you tomorrow."

Terrance is about to protest but a stern look from Paris quiets him, and he leaves without further ado. Paris closes the door after him and then turns toward her roommate. It's not like she can ask _her_ to leave, can she? Yihua seems to sense Paris's eyes on her and looks up from her book.

"You won't even know I'm here," she states and helpfully turns around to face the wall.

While it's not how Paris would've preferred it, she's too nervous to make a good argument and therefore accepts the situation. Terrance would be proud, how far she's come. The truth is that she's so nervous about meeting Rory that she can't focus on anything else.

She spends the next couple of minutes fretting over her appearance. She wasn't always like this with Rory. Rory has seen her at her worst, with horrible bed hair and zit cream all over her face, and she's never given Paris anything but compliments. There's nothing to worry about, a hair out of place won't make a difference in the big scheme of things. Rory either likes her or she doesn't.

Convincing Paris's nerves to calm down is no easy task, however. This isn't some speech or presentation for school, this is something _very_ different that involves Paris being vulnerable and baring her innermost thoughts and feelings. It's nothing short of terrifying.

There's a knock on the door.

Paris stills and is suddenly acutely aware of the accelerated thumping in her chest. There's five feet to the barrier between her and Rory. Five feet. She's been wanting to have this conversation for months and it's finally happening. It's now or never.

With a deep breath, she resolutely crosses the distance to the door. The handle is cool against her skin as she puts her hand on it and presses downward, all too aware of every little move she makes. Time seems to move in slow motion and she wills herself to pull, revealing a familiar face on the other side.

"Hi," Rory says, a sheepish smile on her face. "I found your suite. And your room."

It's all Paris can do not to throw herself at Rory and hug her until they both can't breathe. She would, if it weren't for the big elephant in the room that makes her heart clench and stomach twist. Instead, she does what she does best and channels all her feelings into one single emotion.

Anger.

* * *

"You didn't call!"

So, the first thing Paris does is yell at her. Honestly, Rory should've expected no less. After all, this is Paris.

"All summer, complete radio silence! I didn't even get a card from one of those stupid countries you visited! Zilch, zero!"

There's no mistaking the hurt in Paris's voice, beneath the layers of indignation and righteous accusations.

"I wasn't aware you wanted a postcard," Rory says quietly.

It's a fruitless attempt to placate the other girl, who responds with a frustrated growl and starts to pace the cramped room. Rory takes the opportunity to step over the threshold and close the door behind her. Experience tells her that this might take a while and there's no need to disturb the other suitemates more than necessary.

"Why didn't you contact me?" Paris demands, not quite yelling anymore. "Did you not get the clues? Could you not put two and two together?"

Rory ignores the condescending tone but does feel a bit stupid, seeing as she actually didn't figure it out on her own. Had she not been so busy those last few days she would have, no doubt, but facts are facts.

A sudden movement on the bed behind Paris momentarily distracts Rory from their argument. There's a girl on the top bunk, who just adjusted her reading position to lie on her stomach. Paris ought to be aware of her presence but she's ignoring it, so Rory tries to as well. She's decidedly happy that her own room has debunked beds, though.

"Actually, my mom figured it out first," she admits, bringing her focus back to Paris. "I didn't look that quote up, but apparently she did, and she kind of sprung it on me in France thinking I already knew."

Paris stops and stares at her, expression obscure for a moment before it turns grim.

"So you did know," she concludes. "And you still didn't call."

There's a pause and Rory searches for the right words to explain herself and apologize, but she's not fast enough.

"Well then, come on, lay it on me!" Paris prompts, raising her voice again and gesticulatingvividly. "Tell me you don't see me that way, you're sorry, or maybe you're disgusted? I'm a little deviant, aren't I?! You probably threw the yearbook away and will never listen to the Bangles again! I don't even know why I tried, clearly I'm an idiot who–"

"No!" Rory interjects, stepping forward to grab Paris arms in an attempt to disrupt her from her destructive path. "Paris, stop."

"You could've just told me over the phone before!" Paris continues, struggling half-heartedly against Rory's grip. "You didn't need to come here and rub it in my face..."

Her voice breaks and the change is instant. Like a pricked balloon, she deflates, and tears start pouring down her face. All will to fight seems to dissipate and she doesn't protest when Rory tugs her close and wraps her arms around her sniveling form.

"That's not true," Rory soothes, guilt showering over her for not getting the words out sooner. "You're brilliant and beautiful and amazing and I'm so sorry it took me so long to tell you."

Rory's eyes start to prickle with emotion and she closes them, trying to keep her composure. She can do this. Her heart is hammering away in her chest and she's scared, because this is new and unfamiliar and... _Paris_. There's much at stake. But she can do it. She must, or else she'll spend the rest of her life wondering what could've been and regretting her cowardice.

Unsure if she's even allowed, she tentatively nuzzles into Paris's hair. It feels right and smells like summer, warm and fruity. Peach, Rory thinks. Relieved, she notices that Paris has stopped crying, but that relief quickly changes into thrill when a pair of arms snakes around her waist. Paris shifts slightly to stand flush against her and Rory feels the other girl's breath against her neck in small, humid gusts. There's something akin to a fire awakening within her, something she didn't experience enough with her boyfriends, and she recalls a certain quote.

"I think you burn me too," she mumbles, glad that Paris can't see her blush.

Paris sniffles, her nose still a bit stuffy.

"Do you really?" she wonders, her lips a hair away from moving against Rory's skin as she talks. It's very distracting. "What about Jess?"

Rory tenses and her eyes fly open. Jess feels like a million years ago but there's something else, someone else she must ask about. She leans back without releasing her hold of Paris and searches her face for clues.

"I haven't spoken to him since graduation, we're way over," Rory declares. "What about Jamie?" she counters.

Paris hangs her head guiltily.

"I don't know how to break up with him," she confesses. "Every time I'm about to do it, I chicken out. I think I need your help." She looks thoughtful. "However, he does make a pretty good beard."

Rory can't help but smile. It's typical and almost feels like old times.

"Paris, you can't string him along forever," she chuckles and then turns more serious. "It's not nice. And I don't want to hide."

They both still, the implication of Rory's words hitting them all at once. Paris looks up with her big, brown puppy eyes full of hope and if Rory had any doubts left before, they're gone now.

"So, you mean..." Paris trails off, gaze dropping a couple of inches.

Rory wets her lips and nods breathlessly, anticipation growing. She slowly draws nearer and Paris must do the same because one moment there's space between them and the next there's not. Paris captures Rory's bottom lip between her own and although she's fierce, in her usual manner, the kiss is surprisingly gentle. She moves with purpose but at a ginger pace, coaxes rather than takes, and Rory gives in willingly.

All too soon Paris breaks the kiss, leaving Rory wanting more. When she opens her eyes, Paris is gazing up at her with the same sparkling desire Rory feels, but also a sudden vulnerability. Paris searches for assurance, confirmation, some sort of response, and Rory recognizes the look. It's the one Paris has always had when coming to Rory for relationship advice in the past. She certainly has a tendency to doubt herself and Rory wants to take away that insecurity.

"Still burning," she declares and smiles warmly, pleased when Paris lights up and relaxes with a happy sigh. To further prove her point, Rory tilts her head and leans down to kiss Paris again.

"Nice," comes appreciatively from somewhere else in the room.

Rory pulls back, startled by the interruption. It had completely slipped her mind that they weren't alone and with reddening cheeks she quickly looks over at the bunk bed where Paris's roommate is still lying on her stomach. Her head is turned and she briefly meets Rory's eyes before returning to her book.

"I'm sorry, I thought you were done."

* * *

Paris is instantly enraged. She _knew_ she should've made Yihua leave, but she didn't, and the girl _promised_ to stay quiet. Rory was about to kiss her, kiss _her_ , and everything was perfect, but now the moment it ruined and Rory looks uncomfortable and everything is Yihua's fault. Paris juts her jaw, scrunches up her mouth, and inhales deeply in preparation of giving her roommate a piece of her mind.

" _Now_ you're talking?!" she barks and turns around to face the girl, untangling from a reluctant Rory in the process. "Barely a word when I'm actually asking you questions and then _this_ is the moment you decide to make a comment?"

Like a koala Rory clutches onto her from behind, trapping her arms in the process much like before.

"Please don't fight," she begs, her cheek pressed against Paris's. After a moment she adds, "I have something for you."

Paris clenches her jaw but finds it hard to resist the temptation of this mystery _something_. It would also be unfortunate to make her roommate of the whole freshman year an enemy on the first day, she does admit that. Begrudgingly.

"Fine," she mutters as curiosity wins out, but still raises – as high as Rory's grip allows – a warning finger at Yihua. "But this isn't over! We'll talk about this later and lay down some ground rules."

"Sure," Yihua agrees with a nod, eyes glued to her book.

Paris grunts. The disrespect, the _dis_ respect! Not even looking at her while they're talking.

"You really have something for me?" she wonders then, struggling to turn and look at Rory.

Rory releases her with a nervous laugh.

"Yeah, but maybe it's silly," she replies self-consciously. "It's not even new anymore, but it was. When I bought it, I mean. Which was a few weeks ago. In Paris."

Not meeting Paris's gaze she shrugs off her backpack and takes out a small plush toy. At a first glance, it's a typical souvenir: a Dalmatian with a blue beret, holding a red heart reading _'Paris'_ in cursive letters. However, taking into account that Paris is also the name of, well, _Paris_ , the gift can't by any means be considered generic. Paris has never gotten anything with her name in a heart on it before and she's stunned speechless as Rory hands it over.

"I wasn't sure if I'd ever get the opportunity to give it to you, as you may understand since I didn't even...call," Rory struggles with the words. "So she may have spent a night or two in my, uh...in my bed."

Paris isn't sure what the appropriate response to this sort of gift is. She's only been in one relationship and never received anything like this from her boyfriend. Which makes her wonder. Does this mean she and Rory are in a relationship now? Or do they need to date properly first? But what if Rory changes her mind?!

"Do you like it?" Rory asks anxiously.

Paris finally looks up from the stuffed animal, still a little dazed, and notices Rory's furrowed brows.

"I do," she asserts, smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. "It's a she?"

"Um, well yeah," Rory says. "She's, you know, _Paris_. But you could change it if you like."

Paris beams and presses little dog Paris against her chest. It got named after her and spent time in Rory's bed. It even smells like Rory. Paris breathes it in like it's an exquisite perfume.

"It's perfect," she states. "Thank you."

She glances back at Yihua to make sure she's not spying on them again and then leans close to Rory, blushing.

"Does this mean we're girlfriends?" she whispers hopefully, not quite daring to meet Rory's gaze.

Rory giggles, _giggles_ , and Paris's mood falls.

"Don't you think you should call Jamie first?"

Oh. _Oh_. Rory has a valid point, but Paris smirks, because it wasn't a no.

"Is that a _yes_?" she teases, confidence growing.

Rory smiles brightly and brings her face mere inches from Paris's.

"Yes," she breathes onto Paris's skin and picks up where they were interrupted before.


End file.
